


Ordinary People

by Anythingtoasted



Series: Ordinary People [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anythingtoasted/pseuds/Anythingtoasted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based loosely on season 9 spoilers and rumours; Cas works in a convenience store; Dean suddenly, inexplicably finds himself in need of magazines and candy on a regular basis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ordinary People

“So you, uh.  _Work_  here?”

Castiel looks down at the blue vest he’s wearing; at the little name tag, short, neat little letters reading, ‘ _hello! My name is Castiel’._ “Yes,” he replies, and Dean shoves his hands in his pockets; looks over his shoulder, back at the car.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Good, actually,” Castiel says in a small, careful voice. Dean can’t think of anything else to say.

“Oh. Well. Good.”

“Yes.”

The air is cold outside; Dean pulls his jacket tighter around himself, and looks at the ground. Sam is waiting and he has to go. He didn’t expect to be negotiating this; not here, not  _now._ The temptation to say ‘come with me’ is almost too great.

He shakes his head, instead, and chances another glance at Castiel’s face. “I’m glad, Cas,” he says honestly, and tries for a smile. To his surprise, Cas returns it.

“So am I,” a pause, and then, “Be careful, Dean.”

Dean nods, and turns on his heel to leave.

—-

The road brings them near again, and it’s raining when Dean gets out of the car. He pulls his jacket over his head on the way across the parking lot, and is bedraggled, soaked, when he finally gets into the warm. A blast of air from above hits him as he comes through the door.

He pretends to be there for other reasons – really, he does. He sorts through the aisles of candy, he flicks over a couple of magazines, and picks up something for Sammy. But then he’s at the counter again, looking at Cas again, and Cas’ eyes are large with interest as he rings up the items.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” he says quietly, and Dean just nods. “Is Sam in the car?”

“I’m visiting him. At the hospital.”

Castiel’s head shoots up from the register at that. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine. He’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Cas’ hands are paused, one wrapped around the magazine, the other just hanging.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. Should have told you, sorry.”

“It’s – well. I suppose it’s none of my business anymore.”

Dean wants to shake him for saying it. Wants to say,  _we’re best friends, what the fuck are we doing?_ Instead he just says, “So how’d you get this gig, anyway?”

Cas shrugs. “Nora. She’s a friend,” he says, nodding towards the back of the store, and Dean’s head follows his gaze.

“She’s pretty,” he says, not really sure why; Cas nods.

“I think so, too,” he pauses, and then says, “We slept together.”

Dean swallows before he talks. “Yeah?”

“Yes. Twice.”

“Oh,” Dean doesn’t know what to say. Cas is printing his fucking receipt. “Did – uh. Congratulations. I guess.”

Castiel raises one eyebrow, and smiles. “I don’t really think that’s in order. She said she wasn’t looking for a relationship; she broke it off.”

“Oh,” Dean has apparently had half his brain dissolved in the last fifteen seconds. “And you were?”

“I was what?”

“You were looking for something?”

Castiel shrugs. “I don’t think I’ve been human long enough to know.”

Dean concedes to the truth of this, and tries not to think about Cas and the beautiful woman at the back of the store, steeped in a sweaty embrace. Tries not to think about what Cas might look like, how he might sound. He slides the magazine off the counter. “I guess not. Thanks.”

Castiel shifts from foot to foot as Dean turns to go. “Tell Sam I wish him well. I hope he’s alright.”

Dean nods, smiles tightly, and walks away.

—-

“You again,” Nora this time, at the counter, and Dean at least has the decency to look embarrassed about it. She smiles at him and he tries one, weakly, back. “Should I get Cas?”

He shakes his head, unable to meet her gaze. “No, it’s – I’m good. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? He’s just in the back.”

“It’s okay.” As soon as she’s done he snatches the candy off the counter and shoves it roughly into his pocket. He says, “Thanks,” but he’s not sure if she catches it – before she can reply, he’s out the door, across the parking lot, back in the car. He thinks maybe he hears Cas call his name as well – when he looks back, he’s in the open doorway of the store. But Dean doesn’t stop, says to himself he has places to be, and the car makes harsh, obtrusive noise as he leaves the store in the distance.

—-

“He’s worse.”

Cas is inexplicably outside when Dean gets out of the car – but it doesn’t matter really, at least he’s  _there._ Dean shouts in his face and Cas blinks at him for a second before he says “Sam?”

Dean nods. “Sam. He’s worse. I don’t – I don’t know what to do.”  _Tell me what to do,_ he almost says, but stops himself just short. Cas, at least, looks distraught.

“I wish I could help,” he says softly, guiltily, and Dean shakes his head and just grabs for him, anything to keep him grounded.

“You always used to,” he blurts, and then endures the way Castiel’s expression shifts to devastated. “I didn’t mean that. I didn’t. I’m sorry. I just. Cas, why are you here?”

Cas folds his own hand around the hand that Dean has fisted in his shirt, and gently removes it. Then he wraps his arms around Dean’s middle, and Dean submits to it, _shaking._ He’s a fucking idiot, he knows; but this is nice. “Why are  _you_ here, Dean?” he asks, reasonably, in Dean’s ear.

“I just wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” his voice is muffled by Castiel’s shoulder.

Cas laughs, but kindly. “Do you want to come inside?”

Dean pulls away from him and looks at the store. There are  _people_ inside, some of them watching; Nora is at the counter, and her expression through the window is worried. Cas has a  _life_ here, and Dean promised himself he wouldn’t fucking ruin it – not this time – but here he is, once again.

“Cas, I’m so sorry,” he says, and laughs at how stupid this was. It’s not like it used to be; he can’t  _pray_ and have Cas come down to  _rescue him._ This is more mundane, more ordinary, than they’re used to; and Cas is human, now. It’s changed. “You’re working.”

Cas still looks griefstricken; as Dean pulls away, he reaches after; but his hands never touch down. “It will be alright, Dean,” he says quietly – like he did when he was an angel. Dean wonders if he knew the future any more then than he possibly can now, or if he’s just  _that_ much of an optimist.

But Dean can’t help it; he’s never been able to. He trusts him. “You sure?” he says, trying not to look Cas in the eyes.

Cas nods. “I’m sure,” his outstretched hand finds Dean’s arm, and he squeezes. “I’m sure, Dean.”

Dean nods, mute, and tears himself away.

—-

“Dean.”

He’s sitting outside, waiting for Cas’ shift to end. Sitting on the ground, no less; as if the situation itself could be any more pathetic. Cas sounds sad when he says his name, and that makes it almost worse. “Hey,” he says quietly, looking up at Cas. The streetlamps illuminate Cas from above; he’d look fierce, commanding, like his fuelled-up self, were it not for the vest and cheery nametag; and the look of plaintive confusion on his face.

“Have you been here long?”

Dean shakes his head. “An hour.”

“Are you okay? Is Sam okay?”

Dean nods. “You were right. He’s stable again. It’s okay.”

“Then why are you here?”

Dean just shakes his head - Cas slides down the wall to sit beside him. “I miss you,” Dean, always Dean, always pathetically begging, always saying stupid  _shit._ He barely cares anymore – it’s been fucking months since he found out Cas was here, and it has burnt him ever since – but still his cloying nature rasps against him. He wishes he weren’t always the one reaching out.

Cas says nothing, for a while.

The parking lot is cold, dark, lit in spots by orange light. The light from inside the store shines through its windows, lies on the ground in slanted squares. Dean’s ass is cold and he feels pathetic and his brother is in hospital. He has his best friend beside him, but they haven’t fucking acted like it in weeks – if  _ever –_ and the silence has gone on way too long. Cars rumble loud along the road nearby.

Cas silently gropes for Dean’s hand, and clasps it. He still says nothing; there’s no reciprocation, no answering voice, and Dean feels anger bubble, low, in his gut.

“Are you ever gonna come back?” Dean asks him, and Castiel sighs and bows his head.

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” he says, and sounds almost as desperate as Dean feels. “I love you, Dean, you  _know_ that,” he pulls his hand away from Dean’s as he says it. “It’s one of the only things I’m sure of anymore, and it doesn’t  _help.”_

“I didn’t know that, actually,” Dean mutters softly, mostly to his knees. Castiel huffs a bitter laugh.

“Then you haven’t been paying proper attention.”

“You love me?”

“Very much,” Cas replies.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Castiel laughs. “Not particularly. Do you?”

“No, not really.”

They sit there for too long, inches apart, cold asphalt soaking through their jeans.

—-

“What do you need?”

“I came to see you.”

Castiel smiles indulgently from behind the counter – even looks a little  _bashful._ “I can probably take a break. We’re not busy?” the last part of the sentence, upturned, like a question – Dean chokes an embarrassed laugh.

“Yeah. If that’s okay. We could talk.”

“Okay.”

Minutes later, they’re in the back of the store; both of them perched on a storage box. Nora took Cas’ place with a raised eyebrow, reminded him not to be long. Dean had smiled at her helplessly, awkwardly, and wondered if she was angry or annoyed about these ridiculous visits – he wouldn’t exactly blame her, if she was.

“How is Sam?”

“Good. He’s good. We’re getting help, actually, so he’s – getting better.”

“That’s good. I’m glad,” Cas replies, and he really, genuinely sounds it.

“Have you got somewhere to live, Cas?”

Castiel nods. “A small apartment, not far from here.”

“You like it?”

Cas considers the question for a second before he nods a second time. “It’s mine. Yes, I like it.”

“You’re good for money, all that crap? You like working here?”

Cas nods a third, a fourth time.

“And you love me?” Dean says softly, and Castiel chokes a little before he nods again. The smile he shoots at Dean is incredulous.

“Did you think you could ask that without me noticing?”

“Just wanted to give it a shot.” There’s a pause; Dean looks at the dusty stockroom floor. “Me, too, you know. Just. In case you hadn’t worked that out.”

Castiel blinks slowly, eyebrows raised. “Oh. That’s nice.”

“ _That’s_   _nice?”_

“Was that the wrong thing to say?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never said it to anyone before.”

“When I told you, you didn’t say  _anything.”_

“Sorry.” A pause. “You’re happy here, aren’t you. With your apartment, and the store, and Nora?”

“I miss you and your brother often.”

“But you’re still happy.”

Cas nods, looking guilty. “It’s more than I deserve.”

Dean shakes his head, frustrated. “Bullshit. You deserve it, Cas. It’s good. I’m glad.”

“But you miss me, too.”

“Yeah, I fucking miss you. You’re my best friend. And, you know, the other thing.”

“The other thing is important, I think.”

“Probably,” Dean huffs and runs a hand through his hair; Cas’ eyes track the motion. He reaches a hand out, and touches the crest of Dean’s hairline.

“Your hair is longer,” he says fondly, and Dean resists the urge to squirm away.

“Yeah, I guess.” He pauses. “Is it nice, being friends with Nora? Like – friends with  _normal people?”_

Cas snorts, hand combing lazily through Dean’s hair. Dean would tell him to stop, but he doesn’t really mind. “Yes. It’s much less… stressful.” He shrugs. “But I wouldn’t change you, Dean. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Cas slides his hand up; through Dean’s hair, around to the back of his neck. He pulls him close, a gentle, coaxing suggestion, and Dean goes willingly; meets Cas’ mouth with his own, and is stunned by its familiarity.

He pulls away after only a second, Cas’ hand still warm on the back of his neck. “Man, I wish I’d known it was this easy.”

Cas looks sad when he says, “Me too.”

—-

It’s a couple of weeks before he can get back – things with Sam aren’t good, but they’re getting better, and as usual Dean’s life is just one mess transitioning into another.

But Cas is good, and his smile is warm when he sees Dean come in. He tells him when his shift ends, and they walk together – a little awkwardly – to Castiel’s apartment, only a few blocks away.

It’s up a couple of flights of stairs, and Dean waits patiently as Cas fumbles with his keys, apologising.

The apartment isn’t much to look at; it’s small, and plain, and Cas obviously isn’t very into keeping it tidy; things are strewn around; clothes, shoes, magazines; there’s a dirty plate on the kitchen counter. But it’s homely, somehow. It feels like  _Cas._

It’s weird, like Cas is just someone he’s dating; like he’s someone Dean will leave again when he moves on to another town. The idea that he might  _never_ lose Cas is equal parts a terror and a comfort.

“S’nice, Cas,” he smiles, and means it; Cas looks doubtful, but nods and thanks him.

They stand at the threshold of the apartment for seconds before gravitating towards each other. Cas moves forward, kisses him, and he’s  _good_ at it. Dean wonders if that’s what he’s been doing, all this time; kissing people, learning these movements; these things that aren’t intrinsic, but work by instinct anyway. “I’ve missed you,” Cas tells him earnestly, holding the back of his neck in his hands, and Dean just mumbles something incoherent before kissing him again.

They make it to the bed; to Dean braced above him, looking down at him, flushed and soundless and touching him carefully with spread hands.

“Seven fucking years,” he says blindly, and then it is Cas’ turn to make nonsense sounds; Cas’ turn to hook him with an arm and pull him down again.

They’ve still got their shoes on; they’re still fully clothed, and Dean feels like he’s fucking lost it. This is  _Cas_ , his brain sometimes reminds him, when he thinks of Cas and smiles; and yeah, it is. Castiel, the angel; Castiel, this dumb, dorky little guy with the most honest smile Dean has seen in years. It’s so fucking weird it’s almost inevitable that this should be  _it –_  end game -for him. He wonders if it really is.

They kiss, and kiss, and Dean feels the weight of it all swamp him, push him down. He folds; Cas catches him with ease, like he was expecting it, and Dean is only a little embarrassed then to lay there, curled in Cas’ arms, holding him in return.

“Is this a temporary thing?” he says quietly, and Cas turns his head to look at him.

“I hope not.”

“Me, too.”

—-

He leaves Cas’ apartment in the early hours of the next day, having fallen asleep beside him. Cas holds him in his doorway before he starts to go downstairs; he’s in pyjamas, of all things, and his hair is a bedraggled mess. He has  _work_ soon, and the idea – Cas at a fucking nine to five job – amuses Dean more than he’d like to admit.

He stands there half-crushing Cas in his arms, in his doorway. He doesn’t know when he’ll be back – not for definite – but they make vague plans, and Cas promises to actually  _call him,_ this time.

“I’ll be back,” he assures him softly, and Cas smiles languidly; nods.

“Good,” he shrugs. “Perhaps I could visit you. At the bunker. I liked it there.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“We could go to the movies, maybe.”

Dean laughs outright. “You’re really pushing this normal thing, huh?”

Cas smiles in a funny, soft way, and shakes his head. “Not really. I’m just trying to do the things I’ve wanted to do.”

Dean can’t think of anything to say, in reply; he kisses Cas a final time; his mouth, and then the rise of his cheek, and he’s embarrassed by the action but doesn’t regret it.

“Good,” he says softly, and means it. He thinks, descending the long flights of stairs, away from Cas’ apartment, that maybe that’s something he could try a little of, too. Maybe, even, he’s started already. 


End file.
